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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154177">lover, hunter, friend, and enemy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarchasm/pseuds/sarchasm'>sarchasm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, King Aleksander - Freeform, Queen Alina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:52:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarchasm/pseuds/sarchasm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"you will always be every one of these"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lover, hunter, friend, and enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Inspired by “Love and War” by Fleurie </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>BEFORE</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She held a name in between her white fingers, numb from the cold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>I. FRIEND  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I remember this: I am small.  My hair is brown, my heart unbroken.  The light does not touch this room, not yet, and there is a book of Saints on the mantle of the unlit fireplace.  I’ve never seen eyes like his.  I am scared, I am homesick.  I miss Ana Kuya’s smacks and Mal’s teasing.  His long fingers close over my wrist.  He lets me sit down.  I am no longer an orphan.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>II. LOVER</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I am stronger.  My hair is still brown, my heart is trotting down the hall and around the corner as I wait for him.  He arrives, gray eyes sliding over me.  I love him.  He doesn’t love me, not truly, but I trick myself.  <em> Alina.  Alina.  Alina.  Beautiful Alina</em>.  Stupid Alina.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>III. HUNTER</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I run.  My hair--still brown--whips me as I run.  My heart aches.  <em> Alina.  Alina.  Alina</em>.  <em> Come back to me, my Alina</em>.  There is a burning in the pit of my stomach, searing my insides, a fire stoked by the kerosene that pumps through my veins.  I love him.  He doesn’t love me.  He doesn’t love me.  He doesn’t love me.  He can’t, truly.  I can’t love him.  I shouldn’t.  I do.  So I run, twigs cutting into the soft flesh of my cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>IV. ENEMY</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I sit on a throne.  My hair is no longer brown.  I have no heart at all.  I stuck a knife in my chest long ago and cut it out.  He sits beside me.  <em> Alina.  Alina.  Alina.  Beautiful Alina</em>.  Stupid Alina.  I am a saint.  Here is my martyrdom.  <em> Peasants love their Saints</em>, the Aparat had said, <em> and yet they do not love the Grisha.  Why do you think that is? </em>  Because the Saints suffer, and the Grisha do not.  I turn to look at him, Aleksander.  Yes, the Grisha do not suffer, not like the Saints have.  I am an orphan once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>AFTER</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Aleksander. </em>
</p>
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